Distinction
by Arlome
Summary: Unlike mother, unlike daughter.


A/N: Owe nothing, bla bla bla...

Anyways, according to the new (and hateful) cannon, Leia gives birth to Ben about a year or several months after Endor. Basically, this is the only way I can see this happening...

Enjoy!

* * *

She's giddy and excited when she tells him she's with child.

His eyes shine with love and ardent adoration and her heart threatens to overflow with happiness and other unrestrained emotions. Their love affair and marriage are a thrilling secret, and the future is brimming with possibilities- irrespective of their present state. Their affection for one another is eternal and unyielding and the child she carries- their child- is the cement that consolidates what they have built.

Padme is with child and Anakin is ecstatic; regardless of the war and conflict- the future is bright.

* * *

She's distraught and exhausted when she tells him she's with child.

This isn't planned; they aren't married, and she's not seen him in a while. The Galaxy needs cleaning and purging, so they are constantly sent out on missions; each leading out a different team. They usually only have an overlapping hour or so before one of them is set to leave _Home One_ , and the best they can get out of these fleeting moments is a stolen kiss or three in some storage unit where no protocol droid can interrupt them. She's only slept with him twice; once on the way from Tatooine, after the hibernation sickness passed and he could see her clearly, and next, after the battle of Endor – in the aftermath of the victory, on the floor of a Ewok hut, high up in the trees.

'Just my luck', she sighs mentally and lowers her eyes to the ground.

Trust Han to never miss a target.

She's waiting at the landing platform when The _Falcon_ docks; her shaking hands balled into fists against her abdomen, and she fears that she might get sick right where she stands. From the corner of her eye she can see Luke hovering nearby, seemingly tending to his beloved X-wing, and she has this weird feeling at the back of her skull that he somehow _knows_. This, of course, does little to put her mind at ease and diffuse her already impossibly elevated levels of tension.

The _Falcon_ 's boarding ramp is being lowered and her heart leaps into her throat at the sight of his boots. Then the Corellian Bloodtripes he wears on his pants come into view, and she feels the meager breakfast she attempted to ingest earlier trying to make a comeback. Soon, she sees his pleasantly surprised face at noticing her waiting for him and she actually has to swallow the bile that climbs up her esophagus. He makes his way to her, face open, mouth grinning; his hands spread wide and his palms upturned.

"Princess!" he teases loudly when he's finally in front of her and close enough to touch, "there was no need to await me so eagerly, at the bottom of the ramp!" But then he lowers his face just an inch and whispers fondly, so that only she can hear him, "Not that I'm complaining…"

He's smiling at her expectantly - and she tries to muster the courage and bully the muscles of her face into mimicking his expression - when he finally understands that something is fundamentally _not right_. His warm hand is squeezing her arm affectionately and she nearly whimpers at the touch.

"Leia," he asks worriedly, "what's wrong?"

"Han," she begins, her voice barely above a whisper, "Han…there's going to be a child…"

He frowns, clearly perplexed and confused at the comment and asks, "Where?", rather dimly.

She lowers her eyes to stare at the space between them and he bows his head to follow her lead, his gaze settling on the fists still pressed against her stomach; then his head shots up in understanding and she's sneaking a horrified look at him and notices that he's staring right back at her, hazel eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

"Leia…" he mutters and she can't tell from the sound of his voice if it's in wonder or resentment.

The dam breaks and words gush out of her mouth like a flash flood on a tropical planet.

"I'm sorry, Han!" she's pleading with him almost hysterically, and it's incredibly silly because, **a** : she's never been hysterical in her life, and **b** : the whole situation in not-strictly speaking- _exclusively_ her fault," I'm sorry! You didn't ask for this…and, and I- I didn't mean-"

He takes hold of her hips and pulls her gently towards him.

"Hey, Sweetheart," he mutters and his voice is incredibly, uncharacteristically tender, "make an honest man out of me, will ya'?"

His hands are still on her hips and his thumbs are stroking her abdomen in a way that can only be described as 'loving'. She stares at him, rather shocked and overwhelmed by his proposition, as he leans his forehead against hers.

"I've rendered you mute, Your Highness; that's a first."

Leia grabs at his vest and presses her face into his broad chest, inhaling the smell of engine grease and sweat and _Han_. She feels him kissing the top of her head and her knees buckle.

"You don't have to," she mutters into his body, "I won't hold you to anything; you can walk away…don't do this because you feel obliged. There are…other options."

Han pushes her away from him so he can look into her eyes; his hands still linger at her waist.

"Sorry, sister," he drawls and winks at her, but his undertone is still warm and full of unspoken emotion, "I'm afraid you're stuck with me." Then, in a slightly less confident voice, he adds, "That is…if you want to…"

Lost for words, she buries her face in his chest again and nods; her fingers clenching and unclenching around the fabric of his vest. She can feel Han acknowledging Luke for the first time, by the deep rumble in his chest and the way the sound of his voice engulfs her and cocoons her in its warmth.

"Hey, Kid!" he calls, loud enough for half the docking bay to hear, "The Princess here is going to make an honest man out of me!"

Shouts and cheers erupt all around them and Leia feels mortified for a moment, but then she senses Luke coming up from behind them and his presence is a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. Han's arms tighten around her for a moment, and she decides that she rather likes being enclosed in the wall of his embrace, so instead of disentangling herself from the hug, she simply turns her head towards Luke and smiles weakly.

Her brother's eyes are full of love and free of judgment and she reaches for him with her hand. He grasps her fingers and brings them to his heart, as his other hand lands on Han's back, jostling him a little.

"It's about time you become respectable in every aspect, General," Luke says good-naturedly and Han laughs; Leia presses her face back into his shirt and takes deep breaths because this –all of this- has suddenly become too overwhelming. She can feel Luke's lips against her hair and her eyes close tiredly.

"Be happy, Leia," he breathes into her braids, "leave the fear and the remorse behind. There is nothing wrong with your blood; feel free to pass it on."

She feels his lips curving upwards in a smile as his words sink in. Luke knows; _of course_ he knows, and his understanding of her deepest, ugliest fears is staggering. Leia breaks in silent sobs, a sudden rush of relief washing over her like a giant wave. Han pulls her flush against him and Luke embraces both of them, as the cheering around them rises to a thundering roar of jubilation.

Leia is with child, and Han seems somewhat more that OK with it; but regardless of Luke's assurance and the prospect of a happy future, a seed of doubt is planted in the Princess' heart.

* * *

The pain is blinding and gut-wrenching and she's alone in her suffering. The medical droid is drawing the life-thirsty children out of her womb; a boy and a girl, and her agonized screams mingle with their vivacious cries. She can barely see them through the wall of tears blocking her sight, but she manages to name them breathlessly and pray her goodbyes; her hold on life slipping rapidly.

She's alone, so very utterly alone. Obi-Wan, who saved her and her twins, doesn't count. Bail Organa and Yoda, who stand outside the birthing chamber, awaiting the outcome of her anguish, don't count; even the children – the product of love and years of yearning and friendship - count little.

She's alone in her pain. Annie- her sweet, beloved Annie- has turned to the Dark Side and left her bereft of the future she once envisioned in her deliriously happy mind; then, on that fateful day when she first told him she was with child. The image of him lingers in her memory; his youthful, handsome face smiling and blue eyes shining-

Blue eyes; the boy- _Luke_ \- has Annie's eyes. She cannot see, but she knows; somehow she knows. She reaches for the bearded man standing by her side; the man whose sorrow is almost as profound as her own.

"O-Obi-Wan," she chokes, determined to speak her last, "Obi-Wan . . . there . . . is good in him. I know there is ... still . . ."

Light fades from her eyes; the last breath in her lungs leaves her. Padme Amidala is alone in her death.

* * *

She's on the _Falcon_ when the pain comes.

It's not sharp or sudden; rather, it begins gradually from the lowest point of her back and creeps towards the highest point of her abdomen, muscles tightening painfully for what seems like a standard minute at a time.

They are on their way back to Chandrila after an incredibly pleasant, albeit short, vacation on Chewie's home planet. She is close to birth and constantly working, so Han decides that a pampering vacation is just what the doctor ordered, and abducts her from her office in the middle of the day, to the great delight of her besotted aid. They spend a week among the high trees of Kashyyyk and Leia passes most of it with her feet in Han's lap because walking has become a real struggle.

Chewie chooses to accompany them on their way back, since they decide to stop on _Home One_ for a short visit before they return to Chandrila; and even though Chewie claims that he'd missed flying in the _old girl_ and that he needs a tiny vacation himself, Leia half-suspects he wishes to be present at the birth, in case Han gets cold feet and tries to make a run for it.

Well now, it seems, he's about to get what he wished for.

She's half sitting - half reclining on the Hologame table; her legs wide apart and feet braced against the edge of the checkered piece of furniture. Chewie is acting as her back rest, holding on to her quivering shoulders and humming deeply in his chest to try and soothe her, while Han sits between her thighs and frowns.

"I don't see anything yet, Sweetheart," he says and glances at her regretfully," I'm afraid you're flying without a hyperdrive."

Leia grits her teeth at his prognosis and grabs the edges of the table as another contraction seizes her. Chewie tightens his grip on her shoulders.

"Blast it!" she pants when the pain abates a little and she can talk again, "this is worse than torture."

Blood drains from Han's face; he stares at her with wide eyes.

"That bad?" he asks quietly - because he _knows_ \- and Leia nods painfully and her breath catches when the cramps return.

Chewie lays his furry cheek on her head and she realizes, with mortifying humiliation, that she's sobbing from the pain. Han rubs her thigh gently and presses a kiss to her shin.

"You're doing great, Leia," he all but coos, "the little scoundrel is nearly here; you just need to push through."

"You just said you think I'm flying without a hyperdrive!" she yells at him and wails in pain, "what do _you_ know?!"

Han shakes his head and smirks.

"This ain't my first podrace, Sweetheart," he says and his gaze drops beneath the hem of the nightgown she's wearing, "It so happens that I've done this before; here on the _Falcon_ , actually." He glances back at her and shrugs, "Then again, it was only one birth, so really, what do I know?"

This little nugget of information gets her attention and she stares at him in horror.

"Han…" she begins, but another contraction takes away her ability to speak and she suddenly feels unbearable pressure in her pelvis; she tries to breathe through the pain, "Han…please tell me you never smuggled _babies_ in here…"

"I didn't," he says and she feels his hand pressing against her, "but the mother sort of smuggled herself on board. She was running away from a whole clan of crazy assholes, her waters broke all over my floors- long story; she named the baby Hana. I'll tell you all about it someday." Han nudges her feet further apart and his head disappears again because something must have caught his attention. "Oh!"

He looks up at her, his eyes bright, and he smiles such an open smile that he looks at least ten years younger.

"I can sorta' see the head!" he exclaims, "It's still a little far back, but- Leia, it looks like he's got a mop of black hair; he's as hairy as Chewie!"

Chewbacca barks out an enthusiastic yelp and the absurdity of her situation finally hits Leia. She thinks she's having one of those out-of-body experiences, because she can all of a sudden see herself in this ludicrous position on the stupid Hologame table with two smugglers-turned-midwives by her side and - suddenly struck by how ridiculous it all must look - she starts laughing.

And it's not a delicate, princely laugh; all twinkling bells and melodious flutes. No; Leia doesn't giggle or titter- she guffaws and chortles and she can't stop, because all of a sudden she feels _empty_ and hears Han cry out, and she understands that the laughter _pushed_ the baby out and-

He wails loud enough for the entire Galaxy to hear him.

Her breath catches in her throat and she stares at Han in slightly shell-shocked disbelief. Her son- _their_ son – is wriggling in his father's hands, all red and squelchy and screaming bloody murder; and- above all else- _here_ , very much with them. Han's face is full of raw emotion and primitive instincts and when he lifts his head up to look at her-

Reality comes crashing down on everyone and the three adults start laughing and crying together, and Leia isn't sure who's wailing louder- Chewie or the baby. Han hands her the child shakily and she brings him to her chest and holds him close to her heart.

"Ben…" she whispers lovingly and presses a kiss to his wrinkled forehead, as Han drapes his arm over her shoulder and presses her to him tightly, "look, my little darling, your family is here; we're just missing Uncle Luke, and he can't wait to see you."

The baby – _Ben_ – buries his nose in her chest and starts mewling and Leia instinctively offers him a pink nipple. He latches on immediately and starts sucking greedily and Han, his bloody hands now resting on his hips, smirks smugly.

"Like father, like son." He drawls and Leia starts laughing.

Later, she lies in bed in the crew quarters; Han is sitting at the edge of her bunk, his now clean hand resting on her covered feet and Ben slumbers peacefully in Chewie's arms, while the _Falcon_ flies on autopilot.

The ship is quiet and peaceful; for once, all the systems are operational and nothing is broken. Han kisses her sweetly on the lips. Leia Organa is surrounded by family.


End file.
